In Italics
by Bladedfan
Summary: When left to care for an injured teammate, Yohji discovers that sometimes, lightning really does strike twice. But then, what’s one kiss between friends?


**Legal Stuff:** _This story is intended to express one fan's genuine appreciation of Weiss Kreuz and its characters. It is just for fun and not for profit. If you have any rights in the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it._

**A/N:** _Thanks again, for letting me borrow that, Tex! _

**In _Italics_**

It had been a long night, ending as had so many in the past for the Weiss members; with the injury of a teammate. This time it had been Aya, though that hadn't really surprised anyone. Their impromptu leader was always getting hurt; placing himself in the way of whatever went wrong, shielding one or more of the others from some deadly peril. And so it came about that the oldest Weiss, Yohji, had been left to tend to his friend, Omi (regrettably) busy typing up mission reports, and Ken out trying to drudge up information on the one beast that'd managed to escape after Aya had been hurt.

He'd been laid out on Yohji's own bed, with the rationale that it was by far the most comfortable. And the blond had hunkered down in an overstuffed chair to wait things out. Or so he had planned. Not even half an hour into the familiar waiting game, well after Aya's wounds had been dressed and he'd been arranged on the bed carefully, in hopes of sparing him any further discomfort, Yohji had felt the distinct and compelling urge to move. It started with a tingling in his legs, spreading quickly throughout the rest of him, and he cursed mutely as the general feeling of restlessness set in.

Something felt… off… had felt off all evening, and, maybe, even before. Yohji could feel it, but had no clue as to the source of his anxiety. Usually, when he got this feeling, he headed out to the nearest bar and drank himself into a pleasant stupor. That got rid of the knots in his stomach, at least for a little while. But he couldn't go anywhere this night, not even down to the fridge for a beer. He couldn't leave Aya. It had been this way since the first time he'd seen his friend injured, and who was he to break tradition?

Yohji paused, noticing something. Aya still had his boots on. That couldn't be comfortable. And, besides, there were no shoes in bed. It was a personal rule. A rule which Yohji enforced by way of removing Aya's boots, tossing one over his shoulder and then the other, discarding each in turn. He heard the soft rustlings and thuds of the shoes landing somewhere in the mess that was his room. Aya was going to freak, waking up in such a proverbial pigpen. Yohji could almost see the expression his friend would give, that narrow-eyed look of disdain, nose wrinkling slightly in disgust. It was all he could do to stifle the urge to laugh as he backed away and stood, hands on hips, to see what else was in need of fixing.

"Blanket," he muttered to no one in particular.

The AC was on full blast, after all. Yohji was one for his creature comforts, and normally liked the cold of air conditioning. The way it made him appreciate the soft bed sheets and warm comforter properly. And, of course, the effects it had on the bodies of the fairer sex…

"Not now," he grumbled.

Visions of gorgeous women, strewn across his bed, could wait. Right now there was only Aya. And it was getting cold.

"That oughta feel better," he said, placing his favorite comforter over his sleeping companion.

"_Funny, that,"_ Yohji thought. Even now he knew his friend was injured, would probably be in a considerable amount of pain upon waking, but even still… he couldn't shake the idea that his friend was only sleeping; just taking a nap at the end of a long day. The younger man looked almost peaceful, and it made Yohji smile.

Unconsciously, the older Weiss reached out a hand to brush Aya's bangs from his face. He was surprised at how soft the hair was. One normally didn't associate Aya with shampoo, neat-freak though he was. No, not shampoo… books, maybe. Definitely. And tea. Green tea with just one tablespoon of sugar. Otherwise it was just too sweet, and ruined the natural flavor of the tea. Or so Aya said…

Yohji shook his head in an attempt to dispel the random thoughts, his hand reaching out to brush away another of the errant strands. The thoughts were comfortable though, so why not? It's not like there was anyone around to hear. Not with Balinese slumbering deep inside of him and Aya, the only other soul around, pretty much down for the count. Aya, with the soft hair and relaxed expression, who none would picture ever setting foot in Yohji's room, lying there, looking pretty damn at home.

"_Something's friggin' wrong with me,"_ Yohji thought, as he leaned across the bed to smooth an imaginary wrinkle in the covers.

Wrong for thinking "warm and fuzzy" things about Aya. Aya was neither warm, nor fuzzy, nor even all that nice… even to the people closest him. But these things just seemed natural, and Yohji found himself wishing that Aya would be "at home" here more often. It really made the room feel more… well, for lack of a non-fluffy word, cozy. Like home. Yohji hadn't felt so comfortable in any one place since his other life had ended, so many years ago. And he realized that Aya had become a sort of moving home to him. Not that trailer house type of shit, but like that one thing you take with you whenever you move that just takes wherever you are and, instantly, makes it feel like home.

Again with the fluffy thoughts. Fluffy thoughts centered around Aya. It was almost enough to fracture his brain. But, it was already fractured enough to begin with, so he figured one more mishap couldn't hurt… that much.

Yohji stood and stretched, bones clicking and cracking loudly in the quietness that had taken up residence in his room. He turned his head quickly to make sure that he hadn't woken Aya, and, to his relief, the redhead still slumbered, an annoyed grunt the only indication that he even acknowledged the world outside of his dreams.

"Just like you to be pissy even when you're asleep," Yohji chuckled. "You're such an ass, I swear."

He stood for a moment, watching Aya, as if half expecting his friend to wake with a snarky comeback already on the tip of his tongue. When he didn't, Yohji sighed. Maybe he _should_ go get himself that beer. It was shaping up to be another long night, and what difference would five minutes be? Hell, if he was quick about it and didn't bother looking for anything else it would take even less. And what was less than five minutes between friends when one of them happened to be dead to the world anyway?

"_Sleeping,"_ his mind corrected automatically. _"Just sleeping."_

"I'm that fucking paranoid…" he wondered aloud.

As if to dismiss the uncomfortable thought, he shrugged, and headed for the bedroom door, turning the knob slowly once he got to it, so as not to make a sound. When it was open enough, Yohji slid through the crack with the motions of an impatient, lanky cat, and padded in the direction of the stairs quietly.

From the bedroom there came a cry which just about made Yohji jump out of his skin… not to mention nearly trip himself headfirst down the stairs. He tore back in the direction of his room, stumbling over his own feet along the way, and hardly noticing the crack of the door slamming against the wall once he got there.

Aya lay there, still asleep. Nothing seemed amiss, no sign that anything had happened during the half a minute Yohji'd been gone. Nothing but rumpled sheets indicated that his friend had even stirred at all.

"I swear, you do this shit just annoy me," he huffed. "I mean, ya had to pick just then to have a friggin' nightmare or whatever? Prick…"

So, a beer was out of the question. Aya had, well… unconsciously…_"hardy friggin' har,"_ his mind spat, reminded Yohji of why he refused to leave his best friend's side when he was injured. There was just something scary attached to the action, as if something might happen to his friend the moment he walked away, or worse… Aya could wake up and be alone; feel alone. And that was something that Yohji couldn't handle. Not on his watch. Not while he was still breathing. Not ever.

Maybe a smoke. That was harmless enough, and he always had a lighter and a pack of cigs both on him and in the bedside drawer, the latter in the event that he was unable to reach his pants. Such things did happen after all, and frequently at that. He'd probably have flashed a lewd grin and a wink to whoever was around if he wasn't so restless. And, of course, if there was anyone around to flash a grin _at_.

Shrugging again, Yohji dug into the pocket of his jeans. As he did so he remembered where he'd changed clothes after they'd returned from the evening's botched mission. His room. Right here. Aya lying there and all_. "Good thing he was out cold,"_ he thought, flicking at his lighter and, once the cigarette had caught, taking a deep, long drag.

Almost immediately Aya stirred, made an uncomfortable looking grimace, and started coughing.

"-the fuck, man. You never mind these!" Yohji growled.

When Aya continued to cough, Yohji ground out the cigarette, with prejudice, in one of the ash trays atop the bedside table.

"I really hate you sometimes, ya know?"

His friend had quieted down, and if he hadn't known better, Yohji'd have accused him of having done that on purpose. No beer, no smokes, no shower, no sleep.

"You suck…" Yohji muttered, as he dropped back into the chair he'd pulled up beside the bed.

Even as he said it, heard the words leaving his mouth, Yohji knew that wasn't true. His friend did not suck at all. Especially not after what had happened earlier. Aya had saved them all, really. It wasn't just that piece of shit, Ken. Though why Aya would risk throwing his life away after the entire thing was Ken's fault was beyond him. But now that he thought about it, that was probably why the ex-goalie-turned-assassin was out there right now instead of home in bed. He knew Ken felt guilty, might even be sorry for what had happened, but it didn't stop the eldest Weiss from entertaining the hope that the two of them, both Ken and the beast he was hunting, wouldn't do a double KO and save the rest of them a lot of grief.

He paused, going over those thoughts again, and sighed. Alright, _fine_, so he didn't exactly want the idiot jock _dead_ or anything. He was attached to all of his teammates on some level or another. But there had always been something about the quiet man that was… different. What else could he say? You didn't fuck with his Aya, simple as that.

The last thought gave him pause. What did that mean… _his_ Aya? Aya was his friend, certainly; his best friend. But even so, you don't go around calling your friends "yours" in italics like that… because that was the way he imagined the word would be if he wrote it down. Italicized for emphasis. But you just didn't do that with friends. There was something weird about that; something a little too close, too familiar. It was the kind of thing you did when you had a girlfriend or something, and he hadn't had a real girlfriend in...

It was crazy, his mind going this way and that like a little silver pinball. How could his brain associate Aya with something like a girlfriend? He was a guy, for one thing. And Yohji just didn't swing that way…

… Did he?

He grumbled quietly. It was insane, really it was. Aya was guy. A gorgeous guy, sure, but a guy nonetheless. And Yohji liked women. _Really_ liked them. More than the word "really" could describe, even. So… why? Why did it feel as though he was warring with himself on this?

"_I don't **like** Aya… that's crazy. Must've inhaled too many fumes earlier,"_ he thought.

"_Bullshit,"_ something inside of him shot back.

Yohji struggled for a way to counter the unbidden response, but found that he couldn't. His stomach was still in knots and he was again compelled to get up and move, though he'd hardly begun his pacing when the realization dawned on him. It was like a light switch being flicked, dispelling the shadows of a long darkened room in his psyche.

He loved Aya. _Really_ loved him. In every way there was possible to love another human being. And the feeling was familiar… comfortable, like a worn pair of boots, and warm, like the first rays of spring or a favorite sweater during winter.

"What the hell am I thinking?" Yohji asked himself aloud. "All this flowery bullshit… -the hell… Aya'd probably slug me if he knew, the son of a bitch. Who could ever love a guy like that, _that_ way…? Gotta be outta my friggin' mind."

But even as he shook his head, berated his feelings, ignored his thoughts, Yohji knew that it was all true. Right down to the flowery shit. All of it was true. He, Yohji Kudou, the charmer, the lover, was himself in love with his own best friend. His bitchy, assholic, perpetually pissed-off best friend.

"_Again…"_

That thought shook him to his core. He had fallen in love with Asuka, his partner and first _real_ best friend, a lifetime ago. It seemed like forever had passed. And now, it had happened again, like lightning striking the same place twice… in his chest, a little up and to the left.

"Damn my luck…" he sighed heavily, sinking onto the corner of the bed.

Slowly, he scooted sideways, edging closer to his unconscious friend. Aya didn't look good, and it had been hours. Yohji hated seeing his friend like this, but worst of all, he hated the waiting. And, while he was on that landslide of a subject, he hated seeing Aya hurt, period. No other member of Weiss came even close to half the tally of Aya's injuries. Hell, none of them even came close to the number of close calls that the swordsman had had throughout his brief career as an assassin.

"Why d'you always have to throw yourself in there like that, huh?" Yohji asked, more to himself than the still unconscious Aya. "You're always shoving other people outta the way, getting yourself all fucked up… and for what? To save our sorry asses? Man… I think you've had one blow to the head too many."

The words sounded a little harsh, but the tall blond was smiling, unshed tears welling up behind his dark shades. He couldn't love his friend any more if he tried.

"Why'd it have to be you, of all people, huh?"

Aya shifted in his sleep, strands of hair sweeping across his face once more.

"Good answer," Yohji said with a lopsided smile, grateful for the excuse to touch the other's face and hair again.

It was no secret between the two of them that Yohji admired beauty. And, as much as his friend denied it, thinking himself some kind of bloodstained monster, Yohji thought Aya beautiful. The shape of his eyes and their color, his face, his hair… everything about him. He even loved the sound of Aya's voice.

As his thoughts ran to and fro, Yohji's hand slid from where it had been, arranging strands of red hair behind Aya's ear, to rest on his friend's cheek. Yohji tilted his head, an unconscious gesture, highlighting his admiration. His free hand reached for his shades, pulled them off, and deposited them on the bedside table. He couldn't take his eyes away from the man in front of him. If Aya had been a woman, he just might have kissed him.

"_Why not?"_ a voice at the back of his mind whispered.

No. He was not going to go there. It was already enough with the fluff and the affection and the touching. Anything more would be pushing it, right?

"…Right?" Yohji whispered to that mental voice.

There was no answer. And the more he looked at Aya, the more Yohji found that he really _did_ want to kiss him.

"_He'd kill me,"_ he thought, shaking his head. _"He'd seriously beat me to a pulp."_

But, much as he skirted the possible consequences, he couldn't find the will to care. Besides… it would only be a kiss, right? That was innocent enough, all things considered. It wasn't even as though there'd be any tongue involved. Yohji'd never subject Aya to that… unless the younger man agreed.

"Yeah, right…" he sighed.

He knew it would never get past that. Aya was Aya, not some girl. And Yohji couldn't imagine his friend playing the submissive for anyone. Not that he'd want him to. It was part of who Aya was, always the one to take control in a situation, to take charge, and it was just another of the things Yohji admired about him. But then… _he_ wasn't one to play the submissive either; far from it. He liked being the guy, and everyone knew it, including Aya.

So, that was it. Any attempt at a relationship would never work, even in his imagination. Yohji couldn't change what he liked, or who he was, and he would never _want_ to change Aya. It was a doomed romance if ever there was one. There wouldn't have even been a point in finding out if his feelings were reciprocated, much as he doubted they were. Aya was a guy, after all. He was quiet, sure, but he didn't like men. Yohji knew him well enough to tell.

Which brought him back to the issue of a kiss… those things just made it all the more harmless, didn't they? Nothing would ever come of it, and Aya was out cold. It was the closest he'd ever get, Yohji figured. And somehow, he didn't think his friend would fault him for it, even if he knew.

"_So what the hell am I stalling for_?" he wondered.

Normally, when he kissed someone, they were awake, and kissing him back. Normally, he felt wanted, if even for a brief time. But this wasn't normal, his mind chided. This was Aya. And he couldn't help but wonder if he would feel any different, any less awkward or nervous, if Aya were a girl.

"That's so stupid. I wouldn't like Aya as a girl," Yohji scoffed aloud. "No offense to his kid-sis or anything, but… I like _this_ Aya better," he mumbled.

His hair was loose and brushed against Aya's cheeks as he leaned closer. They were practically nose to nose, and something still felt half-assed about it all. Yohji bit back the urge to laugh as the 'why' of it struck him. Sure, it was fine to _feel_ it… well, fine in a weird sort of way, but…

He leaned closer, his lips drawing close to Aya's ear, and whispered, "Fluffy shit aside… I really _do_ love you… ya know?" as though somehow, unconscious or not, his friend would understand.

That felt better. Now things felt right. Because though Yohji Kudou was many things, people that _really _knew him, knew him. And he wasn't about to lie, or hide. _Especially_ not from Aya. And the redhead knew him, for better or worse. Why should this situation be any different?

Enough was finally enough. No more stalling, no more wondering at what such desires or impulses could mean. Yohji closed his eyes, and kissed him; Aya, his best friend… the one person in the world he most loved.

After a few moments Yohji opened his eyes, just a bit. He hadn't pulled away just yet. Something in him wanted there to be a sight associated with this memory. Something to tie these feelings together. Red strands of hair, the bridge of Aya's nose, and a very pretty shade of purple-blue. That's what Yohji saw through half-lidded eyes. It took him several heartbeats to realize what it meant.

Aya's eyes were open. He was awake. And Yohji hadn't pulled away.

Moments passed by in which there seemed to exist no sound, nothing associated with the world outside of that room. Neither man moved. Neither seemed to breathe. It was only when his lungs began to burn with their need for air that Yohji finally pulled away. He was breathless, and could do nothing but stare at his friend, who stared back, his face impassive, eyes unreadable.

"_Say something…"_ Yohji pleaded silently. _"Please… just say anything. Don't just stare…"_

"You're drunk, aren't you?" Aya's voice was flat when he finally deigned to speak.

"Uh…. huh?" came the dumbstruck reply, if it could even be called one.

That wasn't quite the silence-breaker he'd been expecting. Yohji blinked, finding it hard to talk around the lump that had risen in his throat. It felt like his heart was there, threatening to choke him. For a minute things stayed that way, and within the next, Aya was getting up, shoving past him, and heading for the door. Yohji was left panicking.

"I'm going to my own room now. You should probably sleep it off," his friend commented.

That was it? Aya thought he was… drunk? Yohji never had luck this good. He'd had his kiss, and it seemed as though he was going to get off scot-free. This was a good turn of events, wasn't it? Even if there was an unpleasant, hollow feeling being left in Aya's wake…

No… he _wanted_ Aya to know. Things would feel wrong any other way. He wasn't drunk, or tired, or crazy… at the moment, anyway. It was real. It had happened, and Yohji had wanted it to. Aya needed to know that. Something inside of him was screaming.

"I'm **not** drunk… seriously, man. I… I haven't had a drink all day," he stammered. "I-"

"I know," Aya said quietly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I know. I've always known. Let's just… leave it at that."

It was straight forward and a little frank, but such was Aya's way. He knew. He wouldn't say so if he didn't. But his friend didn't seem upset by it at all. Which could only mean… Aya was okay with the fact that his best friend loved him; was _in_ love with him. The younger man would never say as much out loud, and Yohji knew he would never mention what had happened again. Something like_ that_ was not Aya's way. But that small admission was all that he needed. Aya knew. And it was _okay_.

"Wanna go for a beer?"

Yohji looked up. Aya was standing by the door, waiting.

"It's been a long night. I need a drink. You look like you could use one, too," Aya offered, by way of explanation.

"Sure…" after a moment Yohji grinned. "I've been dying for a drink all night."

"Good. Because you're buying," he stated flatly.

"Wha-at? Why the hell, man?"

Aya paused, giving him a long, hard look before replying.

"I wake up to that and you're not paying for my drink?"

Yohji's eyes went wide and it took him a moment to recognize the gleam in his friend's eyes. Aya was teasing him. Things were still okay between them, even after that. Maybe even better, because it didn't seem as though his friend was trying to forget or ignore that it had happened.

Yohji smiled. Things were going to be okay.

"Cheap date," he said aloud, trying, and failing, to suppress a grin.

"Were you expecting that I'd want dinner and a movie?" Aya asked.

"_Well…_"

"Don't even go there."

"Eh, alright," Yohji shrugged, a cigarette already between his lips, and lighter in hand.

"I'll settle for you footin' the bill next time. How's that?"

Aya only shrugged. Yohji was a fucked up friend. A good one, sure. His best; but friggin' weird. None of that really mattered, though… at least he was _his_.

**-End-**

**A/N: **_For the longest time, this little ficlet had the working title of "weissfluff." I guess now you guys can see why. ' I hope that it's not too bad for a first try, and that you all enjoyed it. Questions, comments and constructive criticism will be both welcome and very much appreciated. Thanks so much, to those of you who've got this far, for simply taking the time to read. _

_And, many thanks to Tex-chan, for helping me finish this. I never though anyone would want to sit and read through this thing, let alone beta and help me post it. I'm so, so grateful for the support of all of my friends, always. You guys just rock like that. _


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